𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛; byler

t w e n t y - f i v e

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and then it was 2 am.

will stepped into the house quietly, shoes in hand, carefully shutting the door so that it wouldn't make more than the softest thud. he was good at sneaking back in now, because he never wanted to upset his hosts, his employers.

or alert mike.

his bare feet hit the flooring lightly, letting him avoid the usual creeking. letting him creep up the stairs and past the closed doors in a state close to silence. like a ghost, invisible and hushed, slipping into the last door in the long hallway. 

and when it closed behind him, the wood hitting the frame with a thud he couldn't stop, he let his head rest against it. his free arm was still gripping the hand tightly, and the whimper he had been containing for so long could finally slip out his lips, so soft it barely broke the calm lull of the empty room.

he didn't let himself anything more than the whimper. he didn't drop to the floor and sob, he didn't throw himself on the bed dramtically like some damsel in distress. he didn't let even a tear out, because even a single tear would open the dam he had worked so hard to build in his mind, brick by brick. and what would breaking down do, except make him feel like an idiot? 

usually, he wouldn't have even let the whimper out. he had dozens of them locked behind the dam- but this evening had been....

he just had to let something out.

and then he let go of the door, let the shoes in his hand drop to the floor. they caused a loud clattering, hitting each other and landing yards apart on the floor. the clattering was ling and loud- and for some reason the sound satisfied him. he liked how unapologetically loud it was, not caring who was asleep, who it'd bother. he wanted to kick over the dresser, kick the bed, break the window, yell, scream- make every noise he was capable of.

but of course, he didn't. instead, he walked to the small bathroom slowly.

he washed his face in the cold water from the sink, hoping it would do something to wash away the memory of the night.

but all it washed off was some of the blood. 

he watched the sink turn red, the suddenly dark water disappear inside the drain- and continued watching as the new stream of clear waters turned the sink white once again. not that it was a particularly thrilling watch, but he was doing essentially anything to avoid looking in the small mirror hanging above him.

finally, the sink was spotless and there was no choice but to cut the water, cutting the soft splashing sound off at once. and with the once-again silent room, he had no choice but to look up.

a dark purple bruise was swelling around one of his sad hazel eyes. god, when had he gotten this desperate look in his eyes? they hadn't looked like this since his da-

one side of his upper was drooping slightly, swelled up as well, causing him to have this ridiculous, puppy-like expression. would've probably been kind of amusing if it wasn't this terrifying. 

  but at least that was it. from the numbness he had felt in the right side of his face he had assumed it was much worse. 

so he just cleaned the left over blood, the numbness fading away with the red and leaving him with a weird thrumming pain. there was nothing else to do, anyways. and when his face was clean he wondered back into the room, really too worked up to even consider sleep. or reading. or anything, really- so he just kind of paced around the room, feeling bad for himself.